The Sandstorm Heir
Her world had been one of glittering obsidian and sprawling maize fields. As the daughter of the Acolhuan noble class, Viridiana had grown up surrounded by ancient codices, stone-carved glyphs, and a constant undercurrent of whispers about her role in the prophecies. Her stature was tall and commanding, her skin smooth and bronze like the riverbanks, her dark hair always tied into thick braids adorned with jade stones. She should have been content, with wealth beyond measure, suitors vying for her favor, and the finest textiles adorning her every step. Yet, the rumors had shadowed her—the whispers that spoke of her ties to a rebellious heart long buried beneath the obsidian throne.
In flashes, she remembered the elder's words from her childhood.
"In darkness, fire rises. And in flames, serpents coil. You, Viridiana, are the phoenix or the ash."
Fire in the Night
The moment splintered like shattered obsidian when a figure lunged out of the colonnade. He was clad in battered cotton armor, his face painted in the crescent sigils of a rival city-state long thought subdued. The assassin’s blade gleamed in the last burst of sunlight before the sky darkened with twilight.
Viridiana reacted on instinct. She swung her obsidian blade, meeting iron with fury. The crowd screamed as the impact sent a shower of sparks cascading like stars reborn. She moved like liquid flame, twisting and striking, yet her opponent matched her. His jade eyes burned with an intensity that momentarily paralyzed her. She saw something in his expression—a conviction that mirrored her own.
"The gods lie!" he hissed as their weapons locked. "They want you to die for their thirst. Don’t be another pawn in their games, Viridiana!"
Her name on his lips startled her, giving him just enough leverage to knock the blade from her grip. She leapt back as he swiped at her, missing her by the breadth of a feather, before she seized a stone censer from the altar and smashed it across his arm. The brazier’s coals singed him, forcing him to stumble, but she hesitated, gazing at the agony in his eyes.
"What is your name?" she demanded, a fire rising within her voice that eclipsed even the volcanic tremors around them.
He barely managed to mutter: "Ixbalan—before shadows fall."
Shattering the Divine
As he collapsed unconscious at her feet, Viridiana faced the raging priests. They demanded his death, crying that he was a heretic, a worm to be sacrificed for desecrating the Sunstone’s sacred ceremony. But something Ixbalan had said struck a chord she couldn’t ignore. Hadn’t she herself questioned the endless sacrifices, the runaway obsessions of the priesthood, the prophecies that bound her hands even now?
In that moment, Viridiana made her choice. She raised her hand, obsidian blade in hand again, and pointed it not at Ixbalan, but toward the priests.
"If the gods are so mighty," she declared, her voice cutting through the roaring crowd, "let them fight their own battles."
Gasps rippled across the assembly. Her words were treasonous. Yet something new kindled in the air. Was it fear? Was it hope?
The priests froze, unsure of their footing, as Viridiana slung Ixbalan’s unconscious form over her shoulder and began climbing down the pyramid. The crowd parted reluctantly, their chants turning to whispers that echoed far beyond the base of the temple. She could feel the weight of the jade sun disk tied around her neck—it was no longer the artifact of divinity they claimed, but the anchor to the mortal doubts they had ignored for centuries.
An Alliance in the Ash
Night found her in a hidden thicket by the riverbanks. Ixbalan was stirring, his eyes fluttering open to meet hers under the waning light of the moon.
"Why… why did you save me?" he asked groggily.
Viridiana crouched before him, her face hard yet thoughtful. "Because sometimes, you have to shatter the stone to see the truth beneath."
For the first time in years, she smiled, though it held the weight of mountains. If the gods had abandoned the people, perhaps people could rise like gods themselves.
Beyond the river, the volcanic mountain rumbled—and so did the distant sounds of war drums. But for the first time in her life, Viridiana felt alive, not as a pawn of prophecy, but as a force whose destiny was her own to shape.
They would say, in years to come, that the Sunstone’s echoes warned of a fire to consume the old ways. But they wouldn’t tell you that fire could also spark hope—burn away untruths, and bring warmth to a world long frozen in fear.
Viridiana tightened her feathered cape around her shoulders and gestured to Ixbalan. "Let’s find out if rebellion feels like freedom."
Genre
Fantasy/Adventure with Historical Fiction Influence
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: How to Create the Ultimate Summer Camp Care Package
Disclaimer: This article may contain affiliate links. If you click on these links and make a purchase, we may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. Our recommendations and reviews are always independent and objective, aiming to provide you with the best information and resources.
Get Exclusive Stories, Photos, Art & Offers - Subscribe Today!
Post Comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.